' LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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Shelf AL„,^ a3«, 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



EVANGELINE 



A TALE OF ACADIE 




OF WELL-KNOWN BOOKS, 
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THE SCARLET LETTER. By Nathaniel Hawthorne. 

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HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, 
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^ 



9 



EVANGELINE 

BY HENRY WADSVVORTH 
LONGFELLOW 



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

F. O. C. DARLEY 
PORl^LAND EDITION 



J, , 




The House in Portland, Maine 
where Longfellow was horn 



BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

1893 



Ty^^ ' 



I 






Copyright, 1866, 
By HENRY V/ADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Copyright, 1879, 
By HOUGHTON, OSGOOD & CO. 

Copyright, 1883 and 1893, 
By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 

All rights reserved. 



The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S.A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Engravings by A. V. S. Anthony 

I. Evangeline Title-Page 

II. "* Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, 
and the children 
Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended 

to bless them " 13 

III. " When in the harvest heat she bore to the reapers 

at noontide 
Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah ! fair in sooth 

was the maiden " 16 

IV. " There at the door they stood, with wondering eyes 

to behold him 
Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse as 

a plaything " . . . . . . 21 

V. " In silent and mournful procession, 

Came from the neighboring hamlets and farms the 

Acadian women, 
Driving in ponderous wains their household goods 

to the sea-shore " 65 



IV List of Illustrations 

VI. " Then in his place, at the prow of the boat, rose 

one of the oarsmen, 
And, as a signal sound, if others like them perad- 

venture 
Sailed on those gloomy and midnight streams, 

blew a blast on his bugle " . . . . 93 

VII. " He blew a blast, that resounded 

Wildly and sweet and far, through the still damp 

air of the evening " . . . . . 106 

VIII. " Day after day, with their Indian guides, the maid- 
en and Basil 
Followed his flying steps, and thought each day 

to o'ertake him " 126 

IX. " Evangeline, kneeling beside him. 

Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her 

bosom" 153 

X. The Churchyard 157 




EVANGELINE 



HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 

THE country now known as Nova Scotia, and 
called formerly Quoddy by the Indians, Acadie 
by the French, was in the hands of the French and 
English by turns until the year 17 13, when, by the 
Peace of Utrecht, it was ceded by France to Great 
Britain, and has ever since remained in the posses- 
sion of the English. But in 17 13 the inhabitants of 
the peninsula were mostly French farmers and fish- 
ermen, living about Minas Basin and on Annapolis 
River, and the English government exercised only a 
nominal control over them. It was not till 1749 that 
the English themselves began to make settlements 
in the country, and that year they laid the founda- 
tions of the town of Halifax. A jealousy soon sprang 
up between the English and French settlers, which 
was deepened by the great conflict which was im- 
pending between the two mother countries ; for the 
treaty of peace at Aix-la-Chapelle in 1748, which con- 
firmed the English title to Nova Scotia, was scarcely 



vi , Evangeline 

more than a truce between the two powers which 
had been struggling for ascendency during the be- 
ginning of the century. The French engaged in a 
long controversy with the English respecting the 
boundaries of Acadie, which had been defined by 
the treaties in somewhat general terms, and intrigues 
were carried on with the Indians, who were gener- 
ally in sympathy with the French, for the annoyance 
of the English settlers. The Acadians were allied to 
the French by blood and by religion, but they claimed 
to have the rights of neutrals, and that these rights 
had been granted to them by previous English offi- 
cers of the crown. The one point of special dispute 
was the oath of allegiance demanded of the Acadians 
by the English. This they refused to take, except in 
a form modified to excuse them from bearing armiS 
against the French. The demand was repeatedly 
made, and evaded with constant ingenuity and per- 
sistency. Most of the Acadians were probably simple- 
minded and peaceful people, who desired only to live 
undisturbed upon their farms ; but there were some 
restless spirits, especially among the young men, who 
compromised the reputation of the community, and 
all were very much under the influence of their 
priests, some of whom made no secret of their bitter 
hostility to the English, and of their determination 
to use every means to be rid of them. 



Historical Introduction vii 

As the English interests grew and the critical re- 
lations between the two countries approached open 
warfare, the question of how to deal with the Aca- 
dian problem became the commanding one of the 
colony. There were some who coveted the rich farms 
of the Acadian s ; there were some who were inspired 
by religious hatred ; but the prevailing spirit was one 
of fear for themselves from the near presence of a com- 
munity which, calling itself neutral, might at any time 
offer a convenient ground for hostile attack. Yet to 
require these people to withdrav/ to Canada or Louis- 
burg would be to strengthen the hands of the French, 
and make these neutrals determined enemies. The 
colony finally resolved, without consulting the home 
government, to remove the Acadians to other parts of 
North America, distributing them through the colonies 
in such a way as to preclude any concert amongst the 
scattered families by which they should return to 
Acadia. To do this required quick and secret prepa- 
rations. There were at the service of the English 
governor a number of New England troops, brought 
thither for the capture of the forts lying in the de- 
batable land about the head of the Bay of Fundy. 
These were under the command of Lieutenant- 
Colonel John Winslow, of Massachusetts, a great- 
grandson of Governor Edward Winslow, of Plymouth, 



viii Evangeline 

and to this gentleman and Captain Alexander Mur- 
ray was intrusted the task of removal. They were 
instructed to use strategem, if possible, to bring to- 
gether the various families, but to prevent any from 
escaping to the woods. On the 2d of September, 
1755, Winslow issued a written order, addressed to 
the inhabitants of Grand-Pre, Minas, River Canard, 
etc., "as well ancient as young men and lads," — a 
proclamation summoning all the males to attend him 
in the church at Grand-Pre on the 5th instant, to 
hear a communication which the governor had sent. 
As there had been negotiations respecting the oath 
of allegiance, and much discussion as to the with- 
drawal of the Acadians from the country, though none 
as to their removal and dispersal, it was understood 
that this was an important meeting, and upon the day 
named four hundred and eighteen men and boys as- 
sembled in the church. Winslow, attended by his 
officers and men, caused a guard to be placed round 
the church, and then announced to the people his 
majesty's decision that they were to be removed with 
their families out of the country. The church became 
at once a guard-house, and all the prisoners were 
under strict surveillance. At the same time similar 
plans had been carried out at Pisiquid under Captain 
Murray, and less successfully at Chignecto. Mean- 



Historical Introduction ix 

while there were whispers of a rising among the pris- 
oners, and although the transports which had been 
ordered from Boston had not yet arrived, it was de- 
termined to make use of the vessels which had con- 
veyed the troops, and remove the men to these for 
safer keeping. This was done on the loth of Sep- 
tember, and the men remained on the vessels in the 
harbor until the arrival of the transports, when these 
were made use of, and about three thousand souls 
sent out of the country to North Carolina, Virginia, 
Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut, 
and Massachusetts. In the haste and confusion of 
sending them off, — a haste which was increased by 
the anxiety of the officers to be rid of the distasteful 
business, and a confusion which was greater from the 
difference of tongues, — many families were sep- 
arated, and some at least never came together again. 
The story of Evangeline is the story of such a 
separation. The removal of the Acadians was a blot 
upon the government of Nova Scotia and upon that 
of Great Britain, which never disowned the deed, 
although it was probably done without direct permis- 
sion or command from England. It proved to be 
unnecessary, but it must also be remembered that 
to many men at that time the English power seemed 
trembling before France, and that the colony at Hali- 
fax regarded the act as one of self-preservation. 



Evangeline 



%b 



The authorities for an historical inquiry into this 
subject are best seen in a volume published by the 
government of Nova Scotia at Halifax in 1869, enti- 
tled Selections from the Public Documents of the Pro- 
vince of Nova Scotia, edited by Thomas B. Akins, 
D. C. L., Commissioner of Public Records : and in a 
manuscript journal kept by Colonel WinsloY\^, now in 
the cabin<^t of the Massachusetts Historical Society 
in Boston. At the State House in Boston are two 
volumes of records, entitled Fre?ich Neutrals, which 
contain voluminous papers relating to the treatment 
of the Acadians who were sent to Massachusetts. 
Probably the work used by the poet in writing Evan- 
geline was An Historical and Statistical Account of 
Nova Scotia, by Thomas C. Haliburton, who is best 
known as the author of The Clockmaker, or The Say- 
ings and Doings of Samuel Slick of Slickville, a book 
which, written apparently to prick the Nova Scotians 
into more enterprise, was for a fong while the chief 
representative of Yankee smartness. Judge Halibur- 
ton's history was published in 1829. A later history, 
w^hich takes advantage more freely of historical docu- 
ments, is A History of N'ova Scotia, or Acadie, by 
Beamish Murdock, Esq., Q. C, Halifax, 1866. Still 
more recent is a smaller, well-written work, entitled 
The History of Acadia from its First Discovery to its 



Historical Introdicction xi 

Surrender to England by the Treaty of Paris, by James 
Hannay, St. John, N. B., 1879. W. J. Anderson pub- 
lished a paper in the Trd?isactions of the Literary and 
Historical Society of Quebec, New Series, part 7, 
1870, entitled Evangeline and the Archives of Nova 
Scotia^ in which he examines the poem by the light 
of the volume of Nova Scotia Archives^ edited by T. 
B. Akins. The sketches of travellers in Nova Scotia, 
as Acadia^ or a Month amofig the Blue JVoses, by F. S. 
Cozzens, and Baddeck, by C. D. Warner, give the 
present appearance of the country and inhabitants. 

The measure of Evangeline is what is commonly 
known as English dactylic hexameter. The hexame- 
ter is the measure used by Homer in the Iliad and 
the Odyssey, and by Virgil in the ^neid, but the dif- 
ference between the English language and the Latin 
or Greek is so great, especially when.we consider that 
in English poetry every word must be accented accord- 
ing to its customary pronunciation, while in scanning 
Greek and Latin verse accent follows the quantity of 
the vowels, that in applying this term of hexameter 
to Evangeline it must not be supposed by the reader 
that he is getting the effect of Greek hexameters. It 
is the Greek hexameter translated into English use, 
and some have maintained that the verse of the Iliad 
is better represented in the English by the trochaic 



xii Evangeline 

measure of fifteen syllables, of which an excellent 
illustration is in Tennyson's Locksley Hall; others 
have compared the Greek hexameter to the ballad 
metre of fourteen syllables, used notably by Chapman 
in his translation of Homer's Iliad, The measure 
adopted by Mr. Longfellow has never become very 
popular in English poetry, but has repeatedly been 
attempted by other poets. The reader will find the 
subject of hexameters discussed by Matthew Arnold 
in his lectures On Translating Homer; by James 
Spedding in English Hexameters, in his recent volume, 
Reviews and Discussions, Literary, Political and His- 
torical, not relating to Bacon; and by John Stuart 
Blackie in Reinarks on English Hexameters, contained 
in his volume HorcB Hellenicce. 

The measure lends itself easily to the lingering 
melancholy which marks the greater part of the poem, 
and the poet's fine sense of harmony between subject 
and form is rarely better shown than in this poem. 
The fall of the verse at the end of the line and the 
sharp recovery at the beginning of the next will be 
snares to the reader, who must beware of a jerking 
style of delivery. The voice naturally seeks a rest in 
the middle of the line, and this rest, or caesural pause, 
should be carefully regarded ; a little practice will 
enable one to acquire that habit of reading the hexa- 



Historical Introduction xiii 

meter, which we may liken, roughly, to the climbing 
of a hill, resting a moment on the summit, and then 
descending the other side. The charm in reading 
Evangeline aloud, after a clear understanding of the 
sense, which is the essential in all good reading, is 
found in this gentle labor of the former half of the 
line, and gentle acceleration of the latter half. 




EVANGELINE 



v_y ( 



T 



HIS is the forest prikneval' The murmur- 
ing pines and the hemlocks,; 

Bearded with .moss, ^ and in i garments green, in- 

^^ ''■ -A ^- L-'i -^- U— • 
distinct in the twilight, 

Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and 

prophetic, 
Stand like l^arpers hoar, with beards that rest 

on theirj bosoms. 
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced 

neighboring ocean 
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the 

wail of the forest. 



8 Evangelme 

This is the forest primeval ; but where' are 

the hearts that beneath it 
Leaped hke the roe, when he hears in the 

woodland the voice of the huntsman ? 
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home 

of Acadian farmers, — 
Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water 

the woodlands, 
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting 

an image of heaven ? 
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farm- 
ers forever departed ! 
Scattered Hke dust and leaves, when the mighty 

blasts of October 
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle 

them fsir o'er the ocean. 
Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful 

village of Grand-Pr6. 

Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and 
endures, and is patient. 



Evangeline 9 

Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of 

woman's devotion, 
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the 

pines of the forest ; 
List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the 

happy. 




PART THE FIRST 



T N the Acadian land, on the shores of the 

Basin of Minas, 
Distant, secluded, still, the little village of 

Grand-Pre 
Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows 

stretched to the eastward, 
Giving the village its name, and pasture to 

flocks without number. 
Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised 

with labor incessant. 
Shut out the turbulent tides ; but at stated 

seasons the flood-gates 



12 Evangeline 



Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at 

will o'er the meadows. 
West and south there were fields of flax, and 

orchards and cornfields 
Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain ; 

and away to the northward 
Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on 

the mountains 
Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the 

mighty Atlantic 
Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from 

their station descended. 
There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the 

Acadian village. 
Strongly built were the houses, with frames of 

oak and of chestnut. 
Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the 

reign of the Henries. 
Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows; 

and gables projecting 



Evangeline 1 3 

Over the basement below protected and shaded 
the door-way. 

There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when 
brightly the sunset 

Lighted the village street, and gilded the vanes 
on the chimneys. 

Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps 
and in kirtles 

Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spin- 
ning the golden 

Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shut- 
tles within doors 

Mingled their sound with the whir of the 
wheels and the songs of the maidens. 

Solemnly down the street came the parish 
priest, and the children 

Paused in their play to kiss the hand he ex- 
tended to bless them. 

,.leverend walked he among them ; and up rose 
matrons and maidens, 



14 Evangeline 

Hailing his slow approach with words of af- 
fectionate welcome. 

Then came the laborers home from the field, 
and serenely the sun sank 

Down to his rest, and twilight prevailed. Anon 
from the belfry 

Softly the Angelus sounded, and over the roofs 
of the village 

Columns of pale blue smoke, like clouds of in- 
cense ascending, 

Rose from a hundred hearths, the homes of 
peace and contentment. 

Thus dwelt together in love these simple Aca- 
dian farmers, — 

.Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike 
were they free from 

Pear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the 
vice of republics. 

Neither locks had they to their doors, nor bars 
to their windows ; 



Evangeline i J 

But their dwellings were open as day and the 

hearts of the owners ; 
There the richest was poor, and the poorest 

lived in abundance. 

Somewhat apart from the village, and nearer 
the Basin of Minas, 

Benedict Bellefontaine, the wealthiest farmer of 
Grand-Pre, 

Dwelt on his goodly acres ; and with him, di- 
recting his household. 

Gentle Evangeline lived, his child, and the 
pride of the village. 

Stalworth and stately in form was the man of 
seventy winters ; 

Hearty and hale was he, an oak that is covered 
with snow-flakes ; 

White as the snow were his locks, and his 
cheeks as brown as the oak-leaves. 

Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seven- 
teen summers. 



1 6 Evangeline 

Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on 

the thorn by the wayside, 
Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the 

brown shade of her tresses ! 
Sweet was her breath as the breath of kine 

that feed in the meadows. 
When in the harvest heat she bore to the 

reapers at noontide 
Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah ! fair in sooth 

was the maiden. 
Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn, while 

the bell from its turret 
Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest 

with his hyssop 
Sprinkles the congregation, and scatters bless- 
ings upon them, 
Down the long street she passed, with her 

chaplet of beads and her missal. 
Wearing her Norman cap, and her kirtle of 

blue, and the ear-rings, 



Evangeline 17 

Brought in the olden time from France, and 
since, as an heirloom, 

Handed down from mother to child, through 
long generations. 

But a celestial brightness — a more ethereal 
beauty — 

Shone on her face and encircled her form, 
when, after confession, 

Homeward serenely she walked with God's 
benediction upon her. 

When she had passed, it seemed like the ceas- 
ing of exquisite music. 

Firmly builded with rafters of oak, the house 
of the farmer 

Stood on the side of a hill commanding the 
sea ; and a shady 

Sycamore grew by the door, with a woodbine 
wreathing around it. 

Rudely carved was the porch, with seats be- 
neath ; and a footpath 



1 8 Evangeline 

Led through an orchard wide, and disappeared 

in the meadow. 
Under the sycamore-tree were hives overhung 

by a penthouse, 
Such as the traveller sees in regions remote 

by the roadside. 
Built o'er a box for the poor, or the blessed 

image of Mary. 
Farther down, on the slope of the hill, was the 

well with its moss-grown 
Bucket, fastened with iron, and near it a trough 

for the horses. 
Shielding the house from storms, on the north, 

were the barns and the farm-yard. 
There stood the broad-wheeled wains and the 

antique ploughs and the harrows ; 
There were the folds for the sheep ; and there, 

in his feathered seraglio, 
Strutted the lordly turkey, and crowed the cock, 

with the selfsame 



Evangeline 19 

Voice that in ages of old had startled the peni- 
tent Peter. 

Bursting with hay were the barns, themselves 
a village. In each one 

Far o'er the gable projected a roof of thatch ; 
and a staircase, 

Under the sheltering eaves, led up to the odor- 
ous corn-loft. 

There too the dove-cot stood, with its meek and 
innocent inmates 

Murmuring ever of love ; while above in the 
variant breezes 

Numberless noisy weathercocks rattled and sang 
of mutation. 

Thus, at peace with God and the world, the 
farmer of Grand-Pre 

Lived on his sunny farm, and Evangeline gov- 
erned his household. 

Many a youth, as he knelt in the church and 
opened his missal, 



^O Evangeline 

Fixed his eyes upon her, as the saint of his 
deepest devotion ; 

Happy was he who might touch her hand or 
the hem of her garment ! 

Many a suitor came to her door, by the dark- 
ness befriended, 

And, as he knocked and waited to hear the 
sound of her footsteps, 

Knew not which beat the louder, his heart or 
the knocker of iron ; 

Or at the joyous feast of the Patron Saint of 
the village, 

Bolder grew, and pressed her hand in the dance 
as he whispered 

Hurried words of love, that seemed a part of 
the music. 

But, among all who came, young Gabriel only 
was welcome ; 

Gabriel Lajeunesse, the son of Basil the black- 
smith, 



Evangeline 2i 

Who was a mighty man in the village, and 

honored of all men ; 
For, since the birth of time, throughout all ages 

and nations. 
Has the craft of the smith been held in repute 

by the people. 
Basil was Benedict's friend. Their children from 

earliest childhood 
Grew up together as brother and sister ; and 

Father Felician, 
Priest and pedagogue both in the village, had 

taught them their letters 
Out of the selfsame book, with the hymns of 

the church and the plain-song. 
But when the hymn was sung, and the daily 

lesson completed, 
Swiftly they hurried away to the forge of Basil 

the blacksmith. 
There at the door they stood, with wondering 

eyes to behold him 



22 Evangeline 

Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse 

as a plaything, 
Nailing the shoe in its place ; while near him 

the tire of the cart-wheel 
Lay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a circle 

of cinders. 
Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the 

gathering darkness 
Bursting with light seemed the smithy, through 

every cranny and crevice. 
Warm by the forge within they watched the 

laboring bellows, 
And as its panting ceased, and the sparks ex- 
pired in the ashes. 
Merrily laughed, and said they were nuns going 

into the chapel. 
Oft on sledges in winter, as swift as the swoop 

of the eagle, 
Down the hillside bounding, they glided away 

o'er the meadow. 



Evangeline 23 

Oft in the barns they cHmbed to the populous 

nests on the rafters, 
Seeking with eager eyes that wondrous stone, 

which the swallow 
Brings from the shore of the sea to restore the 

sight of its fledglings ; 
Lucky was he who found that stone in the nest 

of the swallow ! 
Thus passed a few swift years, and they no 

longer were children. 
He was a valiant youth, and his face, like the 

face of the morning, 
Gladdened the earth with its light, and ripened 

thought into action. 
She was a woman now, with the heart and 

hopes of a woman. 
"Sunshine of Saint Eulalie" was she called; 

for that was the sunshine 
Which, as the farmers believed, w®uld load their 

orchards with apples ; 



24 



Evangeline 



She, too, would bring to her husband's house 

delight and abundance, 
Filling it full of love and the ruddy faces of 

children. 




Evangeline 25 



II 



XT OW had the season returned, when the 
nights grow colder and longer, 

And the retreating sun the sign of the Scor- 
pion enters. 

Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air, 
from the ice-bound. 

Desolate northern bays to the shores of trop- 
ical islands. 

Harvests were gathered in ; and wild with the 
winds of September 

Wrestled the trees of the forest, as Jacob of old 
with the angel. 

All the signs foretold a winter long and inclem- 
ent. 

Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had hoard- 
ed their honey 



26 Evangeline 

Till the hives overflowed ; and the Indian hunt- 
ers asserted 

Cold would the winter be, for thick was the 
fur of the foxes. 

Such was the advent of autumn. Then fol- 
lowed that beautiful season, 

Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Sum- 
mer of All-Saints ! 

Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical 
light ; and the landscape 

Lay as if new-created in all the freshness of 
childhood. 

Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the rest- 
less heart of the ocean 

Was for a moment consoled. All sounds were 
in harmony blended. 

Voices of children at play, the crowing of cocks 
in the farm-yards, 

Whir of wings in the drowsy air, and the coo- 
ing of pigeons, 



Evangeline 27 

All were subdued and low as the murmurs of 
love, and the great sun 

Looked with the eye of love through the golden 
vapors around him ; 

While arrayed in its robes of russet and scarlet 
and yellow, 

Bright with the sheen of the dew, each glit- 
tering tree of the forest 

Flashed like the plane-tree the Persian adorned 
with mantles and jewels. 

Now recommenced the reign of rest and af- 
fection and stillness. 

Day with its burden and heat had departed, and 
twihght descending 

Brought back the evening star to the sky, and 
the herds to the homestead. 

Pawing the ground they came, and resting their 
necks on each other, 

And with their nostrils distended inhaling the 
freshness of evening. 



28 Evangeline 

Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline's beautiful 

heifer, 
Proud of her snow-white hide, and the ribbon that 

waved from her collar, 
Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of human 

affection. ^ 

Then came the shepherd back with his bleating 

flocks from the seaside. 
Where was their favorite pasture. Behind them 

followed the watch-dog, 
Patient, full of importance, and grand in the pride 

of his instinct, 
Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and 

superbly 
Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward the 

stragglers ; 
Regent of flocks was he when the shepherd slept ; 

their protector, 
When from the forest at night, through the 

starry silence, the wolves howled. 



Evangeline 29 

Late, with the rising moon, returned the wains 

from the marshes, 
Laden with briny hay, that filled the air with its 

odor. 
Cheerily neighed the steeds, with dew on their 

manes and their fetlocks, 
While aloft on their shoulders the wooden and 

ponderous saddles. 
Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned with 

tassels of crimson, 
Nodded in bright array, like hollyhocks heavy 

with blossoms. 
Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and yielded' 

their udders 
Unto the milkmaid's hand ; whilst loud and in 

regular cadence 
Into the sounding pails the foaming streamlets 

descended. 
Lowing of cattle and peals of laughter were heard 

in the farm-yard, 



30 Evangeline 

Echoed back by the barns. Anon they sank into 

stillness ; 
Heavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves 

of the barn-doors, 
Rattled the wooden bars, and all for a season 

was silent. 

In-doors, warm by the wide-mouthed fireplace^ 

idly the farmer 
Sat in his elbow-chair, and watched how the 

flames and the smoke-wreaths 
Struggled together like foes in a burning city. 

Behind him, 
Nodding and mocking along the wall, wdth 

gestures fantastic, 
Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished away 

into darkness. 
Faces, clumsily carved in oak, on the back of his 

arm-chair 
Laughed in the flickering light, and the pewter 

plates on the dresser 



Evangeline 3 1 

Caught and reflected the flame, as shields of 
armies the sunshine. 

Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols 
of Christmas, 

Such as at home, in the olden time, his fathers 
before him 

Sang in their Norman orchards and bright Bur- 
gundian vineyards. 

Close at her father's side was the gentle Evan- 
geline seated, 

Spinning flax for the loom, that stood in the 
corner behind her. 

Silent awhile were its treadles, at rest was its 
diligent shuttle. 

While the monotonous drone of the wheel, like 
the drone of a bagpipe. 

Followed the old man's song, and united the frag- 
ments together. 

As in a church, when the chant of the choir at 
intervals ceases, 



32 Evangeline 

Footfalls are heard in the aisles, or words of 

the priest at the altar, 
So, in each pause of the song, v/ith measured 

motion the clock clicked. 

Thus as they sat, there were footsteps heard, 

and, suddenly lifted, 
Sounded the wooden latch, and the door swung 

back on its hinges. 
Benedict knew by the hob-nailed shoes it was 

Basil the blacksmith, 
And by her beating heart Evangeline knew who 

was with him. 
" Welcome ! " the farmer exclaimed, as their foot- 
steps paused on the threshold, 
"Welcome, Basil, my friend ! Come, take thy 

place on the settle 
Close by the chimney-side, which is always empty 

without thee ; 
Take from the shelf overhead thy pipe and the 

box of tobacco ; 



Evangeline 33 

Never so much thyself art thou as when through 

the curUng 
Smoke of the pipe or the forge thy friendly and 

jovial face gleams 
Round and red as the harvest moon through the 

mist of the marshes." 
Then, with a smile of content, thus answered 

Basil the blacksmith, 
Taking with easy air the accustomed seat by the 

fireside : — 
"Benedict Bellefontaine, thou hast ever thy jest 

and thy ballad ! 
Ever in cheerfullest mood art thou, when others 

are filled with 
Gloomy forebodings of ill, and see only ruin before 

them. 
Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked 

up a horseshoe." 
Pausing a moment, to take the pipe that Evan- 
geline brought him, 
3 



34 Evangeline 

And with a coal from the embers had lighted, he 

slowly continued : — 
" Four days now are passed since the English 

ships at their anchors 
Ride in the Gaspereau's mouth, with their cannon 

pointed against us. 
What their design may be is unknown ; but all 

are commanded 
On the morrow to meet in the church, where his 

Majesty's mandate 
Will be proclaimed as law in the land. Alas ! in 

the mean time 
Many surmises of evil alarm the hearts of the 

people." 
Then made answer the farmer : — " Perhaps some 

friendlier purpose 
Brings these ships to our shores. Perhaps the 

harvests in England 
By untimely rains or untimelier heat have been 

blighted, 



Eva7tgeline 35 

And from our bursting barns they would feed 

their cattle and children." 
" Not so thinketh the folk in the village," said, 

warmly, the blacksmith, 
Shaking his head, as in doubt ; then, heaving a 

sigh, he continued : — 
" Louisburg is not forgotten, nor Beau S^jour, 

nor Port Royal. 
Many already have fled to the forest, and lurk on 

its outskirts. 
Waiting with anxious hearts the dubious fate of 

to-morrow. 
Arms have been taken from us, and warlike weap- 
ons of all kinds ; 
Nothing is left but the blacksmith's sledge and 

the scythe of the mower." 
Then with a pleasant smile made answer the 

jovial farmer : — 
" Safer are we unarmed, in the midst of our flocks 

and our cornfields, 



36 Evangeline 

Safer within these peaceful dikes, besieged by the 

ocean, 
Than our fathers in forts, besieged by the enemy's 

cannon. 
Fear no evil, my friend, and to-night may no 

shadow of sorrow 
Fall on this house and hearth ; for this is the 

night of the contract. 
Built are the house and the barn. The merry lads 

of the village 
Strongly have built them and well ; and, breaking 

the glebe round about them. 
Filled the barn with hay, and the house with food 

for a twelvemonth. 
Rene Leblanc will be here anon, with his papers 

and inkhorn. 
Shall we not then be glad, and rejoice in the joy 

of our children ? " 
As apart by the window she stood, with her hand 

in her lover's, 



Evangeline 



37 



Blushing Evangeline heard the words that her 

father had spoken, 
And, as they died on his lips, the worthy notary 

entered. 



r 




38 Evangeline 



III 



"OENT like a laboring oar, that toils in the 

surf of the ocean, 
Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of the 

notary public ; 
Shocks of yellow hair, like the silken floss of the 

maize, hung 
Over his shoulders ; his forehead was high ; and 

glasses with horn bows 
Sat astride on his nose, with a look of wisdom 

supernal. 
Father of twenty children was he, and more than 

a hundred 
Children's children rode on his knee, and heard 

his great watch tick. 
Four long years in the times of the war had he 

languished a captive, 



Evangeline 39 

Suffering much in an old French fort as the 

friend of the EngHsh. 
Now, though warier grown, without all guile or 

suspicion. 
Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, 

and childlike. 
He was beloved by all, and most of all by the 

children ; 
For he told them tales of the Loup-garou in the 

forest, 
And of the goblin that came in the night to 

water the horses, 
And of the white Letiche, the ghost of a child 

who unchristened 
Died, and was doomed to haunt unseen the 

. chambers of children ; 
And how on Christmas eve the oxen talked in 

the stable, 
And how the fever was cured by a spider shut 

up in a nutshell, 



40 Evangeline 

And of the marvellous powers of four-leaved 

clover and horseshoes, 
With whatsoever else was writ in the lore of the 

village. 
Then up rose from his seat by the fireside Basil 

the blacksmith, 
Knocked from his pipe the ashes, and slowly 

extending his right hand, 
" Father Leblanc," he exclaimed, " thou hast 

heard the talk in the village, 
And, perchance, canst tell us some news of 

these ships and their errand," 
Then with modest demeanor made answer the 

notary public : — 
*' Gossip enough have I heard, in sooth, yet am 

never the wiser ; 
And what their errand may be I know not bet- 
ter than others. 
Yet am I not of those who imagine some evil 

intention 



Evangeline a^i 

Brings them here, for we are at peace ; and why 
then molest us ? " 

" God's name ! " shouted the hasty and some- 
what irascible blacksmith ; 

" Must we in all things look for the how, and 
the why, and the wherefore ? 

Daily injustice is done, and might is the right 
of the strongest ! " 

But, without heeding his warmth, continued the 
notary public : — 

"Man is unjust, but God is just; and finally 
justice 

Triumphs ; and well I remember a story, that 
often consoled me, 

When as a captive I lay in the old French fort 
at Port Royal." 

This was the old man's favorite tale, and he 
loved to repeat it 

When his neighbors complained that any injus- 
tice was done them. 



42 Evangeline 

" Once in an ancient city, whose name I no 

longer remember, 
Raised aloft on a column, a brazen statue of 

Justice 
Stood in the public square, upholding the scales 

in its left hand. 
And in its right a sword, as an emblem that jus- 
tice presided 
Over the laws of the land, and the hearts and 

homes of the people. 
Even the birds had built their nests in the scales 

of the balance, 
Having no fear of the sword that flashed in the 

sunshine above them. 
But in the course of time the laws of the land 

were corrupted ; 
Might took the place of right, and the weak 

were oppressed, and the mighty 
Ruled with an iron rod. Then it chanced in a 

nobleman's palace 



Evangeline 43 

That a necklace of pearls was lost, and erelong 

a suspicion 
Fell on an orphan girl who lived as maid in the 

household. 
She, after form of trial condemned to die on the 

scaffold. 
Patiently met her doom at the foot of the statue 

of Justice. 
As to her Father in heaven her innocent spirit 

ascended, 
Lo ! o'er the city a tempest rose ; and the bolts 

of the thunder 
Smote the statue of bronze, and hurled in wrath 

from its left hand 
Down on the pavement below the clattering 

scales of the balance, 
And in the hollow thereof was found the nest 

of a magpie. 
Into whose clay-built walls the necklace of 

pearls was inwoven." 



44 Evangeline 

Silenced, but not convinced, when the story was 

ended, the blacksmith 
Stood like a man who fain would speak, but 

findeth no language ; 
All his thoughts were congealed into lines on 

his face, as the vapors 
Freeze in fantastic shapes on the window-panes 

in the winter. 

Then Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp on 

the table, 
Filled, till it overflowed, the pewter tankard with 

home-brewed 
Nut-brown ale, that was famed for its strength 

in the village of Grand-Pre ; 
While from his pocket the notary drew his pa- 

pers and inkhorn. 
Wrote with a steady hand the date and the age 

of the parties. 
Naming the dower of the bride in flocks of 

sheep and in cattle. 



Evangeline 45 

Orderly all things proceeded, and duly and well 

were completed, 
And the great seal of the law was set like a 

sun on the margin. 
Then from his leathern pouch the farmer threw 

on the table 
Three times the old man's fee in solid pieces 

of silver ; 
And the notary rising, and blessing the bride 

and the bridegroom, 
Lifted aloft the tankard of ale and drank to 

their welfare. 
Wiping the foam from his lip, he solemnly bowed 

and departed, 
While in silence the others sat and mused by 

the fireside. 
Till Evangeline brought the draught-board out 

of its corner. 
Soon was the game begun. In friendly con- 
tention the old men 



46 Evangeline 

Laughed at each kicky hit, or unsuccessful ma- 
noeuvre, 

Laughed when a man was crowned, or a breach 
was made in the king-row. 

Meanwhile apart, in the twilight gloom of a 
window's embrasure, 

Sat the lovers, and whispered together, behold- 
ing the moon rise 

Over the pallid sea apd the silvery mist of the 
meadows. 

Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of 
heaven. 

Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots 
of the angels. 

Thus was the evening passed. Anon the bell 

from the belfry 
Rang out the hour of nine, the village curfew, 

and straightway 
Rose the guests and departed ; and silence 

reigned in the household. 



Evangeline 47 

Many a farewell word and sweet good night 

on the door-step 
Lingered long in Evangeline's heart, and filled 

it with gladness. 
Carefully then were covered the embers that 

glowed on the hearth-stone, 
And on the oaken stairs resounded the tread 

of the farmer. 
Soon with a soundless step the foot of Evange- 
line followed. 
Up the staircase moved a luminous space in 

the darkness, 
Lighted less by the lamp than the shining face 

of the maiden. 
Silent she passed the hall, and entered the door 

of her chamber. 
Simple that chamber was, with its curtains of 

white, and its clothes-press 
Ample and high, on whose spacious shelves were 

carefully folded 



48 Evangeline 

Linen and woollen stuffs, by the hand of Evange- 
line woven. 
This was the precious dower she would bring to 

her husband in marriage, 
Better than flocks and herds, being proofs of her 

skill as a housewife. 
Soon she extinguished her lamp, for the mellow 

and radiant moonlight 
Streamed through the windows, and lighted the 

room, till the heart of the maiden 
Swelled and obeyed its power, like the tremulous 

tides of the ocean. 
Ah ! she was fair, exceeding fair to behold, as she 

stood with 
Naked snow-white feet on the gleaming floor of 

her chamber! 
Little she dreamed that below, among the trees 

of the orchard, 
Waited her lover and watched for the gleam of 

her lamp and her shadow. 



Evangeline 49 

Yet were her thoughts of him, and at times a 

feeHng of sadness 
Passed o'er her soul, as the saiUng shade of clouds 

in the moonlight 
FHtted across the floor and darkened the room 

for a moment. 
And, as she gazed from the window, she saw 

serenely the moon pass 
Forth from the folds of a cloud, and one star 

follow her footsteps. 
As out of Abraham's tent young Ishmael wandered 

with Hagar! 




50 Evangeline 



IV 



"pLEASANTLY rose next morn the sun on 

the village of Grand-Pre. 
Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the 

Basin of Minas, 
Where the ships, with their wavering shadows, 

were riding at anchor. 
Life had long been astir in the village, and 

clamorous labor 
Knocked with its hundred hands at the golden 

gates of the morning. 
Now from the country around, from the farms 

and neighboring hamlets, 
Came in their holiday dresses the blithe Acadian 

peasants. 
Many a glad good morrow and jocund laugh from 

the young folk 



Evangeline 5 1 

Made the bright air brighter, as up from the 

numerous meadows, 
Where no path could be seen but the track of 

wheels in the greensward. 
Group after group appeared, and joined, or passed 

on the highway. 
Long ere noon, in the village all sounds of labor 

were silenced. 
Thronged were the streets with people ; and 

noisy groups at the house-doors 
Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and gossiped 

together. 
Every house was an inn, where all were welcomed 

and feasted ; 
For with this simple people, who lived like broth- 
ers together. 
All things were held in common, and what one 

had was another's. 
Yet under Benedict's roof hospitality seemed 

more abundant : 



52 Evangeline 

For Evangeline stood among the guests of her 

father ; 
Bright was her face with smiles, and words of 

welcome and gladness 
Fell from her beautiful lips, and blessed the cup 

as she gave it. 

Under the open sky, in the odorous air of the 

orchard, 
Stript of its golden fruit, was spread the feast of 

betrothal. 
There in the shade of the porch were the priest 

and the notary seated ; 
There good Benedict sat, and sturdy Basil the 

blacksmith. 
Not far withdrawn from these, by the cider-press 

and the beehives, 
Michael the fiddler was placed, with the gayest 

of hearts and of waistcoats. 
Shadow and light from the leaves alternately 

played on his snow-white 



Evangeline 53 

Hair, as it waved in the wind ; and the jolly face 
of the fiddler 

Glowed like a living coal when the ashes are 
blown from the embers. 

Gayly the old man sang to the vibrant sound of 
his fiddle, 

Tous les Bourgeois de Chartres, and Le Carillon de 
Dimkerque, 

And anon with his wooden shoes beat time to 
the music. 

Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzy- 
ing dances 

Under the orchard-trees and down the path to 
the meadows ; 

Old folk and young together, and children min- 
gled among them. 

Fairest of all the maids was Evangeline, Bene- 
dict's daughter! 

Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, son of 
the blacksmith! 



54 Evangeline 

So passed the morning away. And lo! with 
a summons sonorous 

Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the 
meadows a drum beat. 

Thronged erelong was the church with men. 
Without, in the churchyard, 

Waited the women. They stood by the graves, 
and hung on the headstones 

Garlands of autumn-leaves and evergreens fresh 
from the forest. 

Then came the guard from the ships, and march- 
ing proudly among them 

Entered the sacred portal. With loud and dis- 
sonant clangor 

Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from 
ceiling and casement, — 

Echoed a moment only, and slowly the pon- 
derous portal 

Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the 
will of the soldiers. 



Evangeline 55 

Tben uprose their commander, and spake from 

the steps of the altar, 
Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the 

royal commission. 
"You are convened this day," he said, "by his 

Majesty's orders. 
Clement and kind has he been ; but how you 

have answered his kindness. 
Let your own hearts reply ! To my natural 

make and my temper 
Painful the task is I do, which to you I know 

must be grievous. 
Yet must I bow and obey, and deliver the will 

of our monarch ; 
Namely, that all your lands, and dwellings, and 

cattle of all kinds 
Forfeited be to the crown ; and that you your- 
selves from this province 
Be transported to other lands. God grant you 

may dwell there. 



$6 Evangeline 

Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable 

people ! 
Prisoners now I declare you; for such is his 

Majesty's pleasure!" 
As, when the air is serene in the sultry solstice 

of summer, 
Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sling 

of the hailstones 
Beats down the farmer's corn in the field and 

shatters his windows, 
Hiding the sun, and strewing the ground with 

thatch from the house-roofs, 
Bellowing fly the herds, and seek to break their 

enclosures ; 
So on the hearts of the people descended the 

words of the speaker. 
Silent a moment they stood in speechless won- 
der, and then rose 
Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and 

anger. 



Evangelme 57 

And, by one impulse moved, they madly rushed 

to the door-way. 
Vain was the hope of escape ; and cries and 

fierce imprecations 
Rang through the house of prayer; and high 

o'er the heads of the others 
Rose, with his arms uplifted, the figure of Basil 

the blacksmith. 
As, on a stormy sea, a spar is tossed by the 

billows. 
Flushed was his face and distorted with passion ; 

and wildly he shouted, ^ — 
** Down with the tyrants of England !^ we never 

have sworn them allegiance ! 
Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on 

our homes and our harvests ! " 
More he fain would have said, but the merci- 
less hand of a soldier 
Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged him 

down to the pavement. 



58 Evangeline 

In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry 

contention, 
Lo ! the door of the chancel opened, and Father 

Felician 
Entered, with serious mien, and ascended the 

steps of the altar. 
Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture he 

awed into silence 
All that clamorous throng ; and thus he spake 

to his people ; 
Deep were hts tones and solemn ; in accents 

measured and mournful 
Spake he, as, after the tocsin's alarum, distinctly 

the clock strikes. 
"What is this that ye do, my children.? what 

madness has seized you .-^ 
Forty years of my life have I labored among 

you, and taught you, 
Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one 

another ! 



Evangeline 59 

Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and 

prayers and privations ? 
Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love 

and forgiveness ? 
This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and 

would you profane it 
Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing 

with hatred ? 
Lo ! where the crucified Christ from his cross 

is gazing upon you ! 
See! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness 

and holy compassion ! 
Hark ! how those lips still repeat the prayer, 

^ O Father, forgive them ! ' 
Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the 

wicked assail us. 
Let us repeat it now, and say, 'O Father, for- 
give them!'" 
Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the 

hearts of his people 



6o Evangeline 

Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded the 

passionate outbreak, 
While they repeated his prayer, and said, "O 

Father, forgive them ! " 



Then came the evening service. The tapers 
gleamed from the altar. 

Fervent and deep was the voice of the priest, 
and the people responded. 

Not with their lips alone, but their hearts ; and 
the Ave Maria 

Sang they, and fell on their knees, and their 
souls, with devotion translated. 

Rose on the ardor of prayer, like Elijah ascend- 
ing to heaven. 

Meanwhile had spread in the village the tid- 
ings of ill, and on all sides 
Wandered, waihng, from house to house the 
women and children. 



Evangeline 6i 

Long at her father's door Evangeline stood, 
with her right hand 

Shielding her eyes from the level rays of the 
sun, that, descending, 

Lighted the village street with mysterious splen- 
dor, and roofed each 

Peasant's cottage with golden thatch, and em- 
blazoned its windows. 

Long within had been spread the snow-white 
cloth on the table ; 

There stood the wheaten loaf, and the honey 
fragrant with wild-flowers ; 

There stood the tankard of ale, and the cheese 
fresh brought from the dairy ; 

And, at the head of the board, the great arm- 
chair of the farmer. 

Thus did Evangeline wait at her father's door, 
as the sunset 

Threw the long shadows of trees o'er the broad 
ambrosial meadows. 



62 Evangeline 

Ah ! on her spirit within a deeper shadow had 
fallen, 

And from the fields of her soul a fragrance 
celestial ascended, — 

Charity, meekness, love, and hope, and forgive- 
ness, and patience ! 

Then, all-forgetful of self, she wandered into 
the village, 

Cheering with looks and words the mournful 
hearts of the women, 

As o'er the darkening fields with Ungering steps 
they departed. 

Urged by their household cares, and the weary 
feet of their children. 

Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glim- 
mering vapors 

Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet 
descending from Sinai. 

Sweetly over the village the bell of the Angelus 
sounded. 



Evajigeline 63 

Meanwhile, amid the gloom, by the church Evan- 
geline lingered. 

All was silent within ; and in vain at the door 
and the windows 

Stood she, and listened and looked, till, over- 
come by emotion, 

" Gabriel ! " cried she aloud with tremulous voice ; 
but no answer 

Came from the graves of the dead, nor th'e 
gloomier grave of the living. 

Slowly at length she returned to the tenantless 
house of her father. 

Smouldered the fire on the hearth, on the board 
was the supper untasted. 

Empty and drear was each room, and haunted 
with phantoms of terror. 

Sadly echoed her step on the stair and the floor 
of her chamber. 

In the dead of the night she heard the discon- 
solate rain fall 



64 Evangeline 

Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamol-e-tree 
by the window. 

Keenly the lightning flashed ; and the voice of 
the echoing thunder 

Told her that God was in heaven, and governed 
the world he created ! 

Then she remembered the tale she had heard of 
the justice of Heaven ; 

Soothed was her troubled soul, and she peace- 
fully slumbered till morning. 




Evangeline 65 



T70UR times the sun had risen and set; and 

now on the fifth day 
Cheerily called the cock to the sleeping maids 

of the farm-house. 
Soc#i o'er the yellow fields, in silent and mournful 

procession, 
Came from the neighboring hamlets and farms 

the Acadian women, 
Driving in ponderous wains their household goods 

to the sea-shore. 
Pausing and looking back to gaze once more on 

their dwellings, 
Ere they were shut from sight by the winding 

road and the woodland. 
Close at their sides their children ran, and urged 

on the oxen, 



66 Evangeline 

While in their little hands they clasped some 
fragments of playthings. 

Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth they hurried ; 

and there on the sea-beach 
Piled in confusion lay the household goods of 

the peasants. 
All day long between the shore and the ships 

did the boats ply; 
All day long the wains came laboring down from 

the village. 
Late in the afternoon, when the sun was near 

to his setting, 
Echoed far o'er the fields came the roll of drums 

from the churchyard. 
Thither the women and children thronged. On 

a sudden the church-doors 
Opened, and forth came the guard, and marching 

in gloomy procession 
Followed the long-imprisoned, but patient, Aca- 
dian farmers. 



Evangeline 6j 

Even as pilgrims, who journey afar from their 

homes and their country, 
Sing as they go, and in singing forget they are 

weary and wayworn, 
So with song-s on their hps the Acadian peasants 

descended 
Down from the church to the shore, amid their 

wives and their daughters. 
Foremost the young men came ; and, raising 

together their voices. 
Sang with tremulous lips a chant of the Catholic 

Missions : — 
" Sacred heart of the Saviour ! O inexhaustible 

fountain ! 
Fill our hearts this day with strength and sub- 
mission and patience ! " 
Then the old men, as they marched, and the 

women that stood by the wayside 
Joined in the sacred psalm, and the birds in the 

sunshine above them 



68 Evangeline 

Mingled their notes therewith, like voices of 
spirits departed. 

Half-way down to the shore Evangeline waited 

in silence, 
Not overcome with grief, but strong in the hour 

01 affliction, — 
Calmly and sadly she waited, until the procession 

approached her, 
And she beheld the face of Gabriel pale with 

emotion. 
Tears then filled her eyes, and, eagerly running 

to meet him. 
Clasped she his hands, and laid her head on his 

shoulder, and whispered, — 
" Gabriel ! be of good cheer ! for if we love one 

another. 
Nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever mis- 
chances may happen!" 
Smilin.g she spake these words ; then suddenly 

paused, for her father 



Evangeline 69 

Saw she slowly advancing. Alas ! how changed 

was his aspect ! 
Gone was the glow from his cheek, and the fire 

from his eye, and his footstep 
Heavier seemed with the weight of the heavy 

heart in his bosom. 
But with a smile and a sigh, she clasped his 

neck and embraced him, 
Speaking words of endearment where words of 

comfort availed not. 
Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth moved on that 

mournful procession. 

There disorder prevailed, and the tumult and 
stir of embarking. 

Busily plied the freighted boats ; and in the con- 
fusion 

Wives were torn from their husbands, and moth- 
ers, too late, saw their children 

Left on the land, extending their arms, with 
wildest entreaties. 



yo Evangeline 

So unto separate ships were Basil and Gabriel 
carried, 

While in despair on the shore Evangeline stood 
with her father. 

Half the task was not done when the sun went 
down, and the twilight 

Deepened and darkened around ; and in haste 
the refluent ocean 

Fled away from the shore, and left the line of 
the sand-beach 

Covered with waifs of the tide, with kelp and 
the slippery sea-weed. 

Farther back in the midst of the household goods 
and the wagons, 

Like to a gypsy camp, or a leaguer after a bat- 
tle. 

All escape cut off by the sea, and the sentinels 
near them, 

Lay encamped for the night the houseless Aca- 
dian farmers 



Evangeline 71 

Back to its nethermost caves retreated the bellow- 
ing ocean, 
Dragging adown the beach the rattling pebbles, 

and leaving 
Inland and far up the shore the stranded boats 

of the sailors. 
Then, as the night descended, the herds returned 

from their pastures ; 
Sweet was the moist still air with the odor of 

milk from their udders ; 
Lowing they waited, and long, at the well-known 

bars of the farm-yard, — 
Waited and looked in vain for the voice and 

the hand of the milkmaid. 
Silence reigned in the streets ; from the church 

no Angelus sounded. 
Rose no smoke from the roofs, and gleamed no 

lights from the windows. 

But on the shores meanwhile the evening fires 
had been kindled, 



72 Evangeline 

Built of the drift-wood thrown on the sands from 

wrecks in the tempest. 
Round them shapes of gloom and sorrowful faces 

were gathered, 
Voices of women were heard, and of men, and 

the crying of children. 
Onward from fire to fire, as from hearth to hearth 

in his parish, 
Wandered the faithful priest, consoling and bless- 
ing and cheering, 
Like unto shipwrecked Paul on Melita's desolate 

sea-shore. 
Thus he approached the place where Evangeline 

sat with her father, 
And in the flickering light beheld the face of 

the old man. 
Haggard and hollow and wan, and without either 

thought or emotion, 
E'en as the face of a clock from which the hands 

have been taken. 



Evangeline 73 

Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses 

to cheer him, 
Vainly offered him food ; yet he moved not, he 

looked not, he spake not, 
But, with a vacant stare, ever gazed at the flick- 
ering fire-light. 
'^ Benedicite !'' murmured the priest, in tones of 

compassion. 
More he fain would have said, but his heart 

was full, and his accents 
Faltered and paused on his lips, as the feet of 

a child on a threshold. 
Hushed by the scene he beholds, and the awful 

presence of sorrow. 
Silently, therefore, he laid his hand on the head 

of the maiden, 
Raising his tearful eyes to the silent stars that 

above them 
Moved on their way, unperturbed by the wrongs 

and sorrows of mortals. 



74 Evangeline 

Then sat he down at her side, and they wept 
together in silence. 

Suddenly rose from the south a light, as in 

autumn the blood-red 
Moon climbs the crystal walls of heaven, and 

o'er the horizon 
Titan-like stretches its hundred hands upon 

mountain and meadow. 
Seizing the rocks and the rivers, and piling huge 

shadows together. 
Broader and ever broader it gleamed on the roofs 

of the village, 
Gleamed on the sky and the sea, and the ships 

that lay in the roadstead. 
Columns of shining smoke uprose, and flashes 

of flame were 
Thrust through their folds and withdrawn, like 

the quivering hands of a martyr. 
Then as the wind seized the gleeds and the 

burning thatch, and, uplifting, 



Evangeline 75 

Whirled them aloft through the air, at once from 

a hundred house-tops 
Started the sheeted smoke with flashes of flame 

intermingled. 

These things beheld in dismay the crowd on 

the shore and on shipboard. 
Speechless at first they stood, then cried aloud 

in their anguish, 
"We shall behold no more our homes in the 

village of Grand-Pre ! " 
Loud on a sudden the cocks began to crow in 

the farm-yards, 
Thinking the day had dawned ; and anon the 

lowing of cattle 
Came on the evening breeze, by the barking of 

dogs interrupted. 
Then rose a sound of dread, such as startles the 

sleeping encampments 
Far in the western prairies or forests that skirt 

the Nebraska, 



76 Evangeline 

When the wild horses affrighted sweep by with 

the speed of the whirlwind, 
Or the loud bellowing herds of buffaloes rush to 

the river. 
Such was the sound that arose on the night, 

as the herds and the horses 
Broke through their folds and fences, and madly 

rushed o'er the meadows. 

Overwhelmed with the sight, yet speechless, 

the priest and the maiden 
Gazed on the scene of terror that reddened and 

widened before them ; 
And as they turned at length to speak to their 

silent companion, 
Lo ! from his seat he had fallen, and stretched 

abroad on the sea-shore 
Motionless lay his form, from which the soul had 

departed. 
Slowly the priest uplifted the lifeless head, and 

the maiden 



Evangeline 77 

Knelt at her father's side, and wailed aloud in 

her terror. 
Then in a swoon she sank, arid lay with her head 

on his bosom. 
Through the long night she lay in deep, oblivious 

slumber ; 
And when she woke from the trance, she beheld 

a multitude near her. 
Faces of friends she beheld, that were mournfully 

gazing upon her. 
Pallid, with tearful eyes, and looks of saddest 

compassion. 
Still the blaze of the burning village illumined 

the landscape, 
Reddened the sky overhead, and gleamed on the 

faces around her. 
And like the day of doom it seemed to her 

wavering senses. 
Then a familiar voice she heard, as it said to 

the people, — 



78 Evangeline 

"Let us bury him here by the sea. When a 

happier season 
Brings us again to our homes from the unknown 

land of our exile, 
Then shall his sacred dust be piously laid in 

the churchyard." 
Such were the words of the priest. And there in 

haste by the seaside, 
Having the glare of the burning village for funeral 

torches. 
But without bell or book, they buried the farmer 

of Grand-Pre. 
And as the voice of the priest repeated the ser- 
vice of sorrow, 
Lo ! with a mournful sound, like the voice of a 

vast congregation, 
Solemnly answered the sea, and mingled its roar 

with the dirges. 
'Twas the returning tide, that afar from the 

waste of the ocean, 



Evangeline 79 

With the first dawn of the day, came heaving 

and hurrying landward. 
Then recommenced once more the stir and noise 

of embarking ; 
And with the ebb of the tide the ships sailed 

out of the harbor, 
Leaving behind them the dead on the shore, 

and the village in ruins. 




PART THE SECOND 



TV /T ANY a weary year had passed since the 

burning of Grand-Pre, 
When on the falling tide the freighted vessels 

departed, 
Bearing a nation, with all its household gods, 

into exile, 
Exile without an end, and without an example 

in story. 
Far asunder, on separate coasts, the Acadians 

landed ; 
Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, when 

the wind from the northeast 



Evangeline 8i 

Strikes aslant through the fogs that darken the 
Banks of Newfoundland. 

Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered 
from city to city. 

From the cold lakes of the North to sultry South- 
ern savannas, — 

From the bleak shores of the sea to the lands 
where the Father of Waters 

Seizes the hills in his hands, and drags them 
down to the ocean, 

Deep in their sands to bury the scattered bones 
of the mammoth. 

Friends they sought and homes ; and many, de- 
spairing, heart-broken. 

Asked of the earth but a grave, and no longer 
a friend nor a fireside. 

Written their history stands on tablets of stone 
in the churchyards. 

Long among them was seen a maiden who waited 
and wandered, 



82 Evangeline 

Lowly and meek in spirit, and patiently suffering 

all things. 
Fair was she and young ; but, alas ! before her 

extended, 
Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, 

with its pathway 
Marked by the graves of those who had sorrowed 

and suffered before her, 
Passions long extinguished, and hopes long dead 

and abandoned. 
As the emigrant's way o'er the Western desert 

is marked by 
Camp-fires long consumed, and bones that bleach 

in the sunshine. 
Something there was in her life incomplete, im- 
perfect, unfinished ; 
As if a morning of June, with all its music and 

sunshine. 
Suddenly paused in the sky, and, fading, slowly 

descended 



Evangeline 83 

Into the east again, from whence it late had 

arisen. 
Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by 

the fever within her, 
Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and 

thirst of the spirit, 
She would commence again her endless search 

and endeavor ; 
Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and gazed on 

the crosses and tombstones, 
Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that 

perhaps in its bosom 
He was already at rest, and she longed to slumber 

beside him. 
Sometimes a rumor, a hearsay, an inarticulate 

whisper. 
Came with its airy hand to point and beckon 

her forward. 
Sometimes she spake with those who had seen 

her beloved and known him^ 



84 Evangeline 

But it was long ago, in some far-off place or for- 
gotten. 

" Gabriel Lajeunesse ! " they said ; " O yes ! we 
have seen him. 

He was with Basil the blacksmith, and both have 
gone to the prairies ; 

Coureurs-des-Bois are they, and famous hunters 
and trappers." 

"Gabriel Lajeunesse!" said others; "O yes! we 
have seen him. 

He is a Voyageur in the lowlands of Louisi- 
ana." 

Then would they say, " Dear child ! why dream 
and wait for him longer } 

Are there not other youths as fair as Gabriel } 
others 

Who have hearts as tender and true, and spirits 
as loyal ? 

Here is Baptiste Leblanc, the notary's son, who 
has loved thee 



Evangeline 85 

Many a tedious year; come, give him thy .hand 
and be happy ! 

Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catherine's 
tresses." 

Then would Evangeline answer, serenely but sad- 
ly, " I cannot ! 

Whither my heart has gone, there follows my 
hand, and not elsewhere. 

For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, 
and illumines the pathway, 

Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden 
in darkness." 

Thereupon the priest, her friend and father-con- 
fessor, 

Said, with a smile, " O daughter ! thy God thus 
speaketh within thee ! 

Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was 
wasted ; 

If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, 
returning 



86 Evangeline 

Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them 

full of refreshment ; 
That which the fountain sends forth returns 

again to the fountain. 
Patience ; accomplish thy labor ; accomplish thy 

work of affection ! 
Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient en- 
durance is godlike. . 
Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the 

heart is made godlike. 
Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered 

more worthy of heaven ! " 
Cheered by the good man's words, Evangeline 

labored and waited. 
Still in her heart she heard the funeral dirge of 

the ocean, 
But with its sound there was mingled a voice 

that whispered, " Despair not ! " 
Thus did that poor soul wander in want and 

cheerless discomfort, 



Evangeline 87 

Bleeding, barefooted, over the shards and thorns 
of existence. 

Let me essay, O Muse ! to follow the wander- 
er's footsteps ; — 

Not through each devious path, each changeful 
year of existence ; 

But as a traveller follows a streamlet's course 
through the valley : 

Far from its margin at times, and seeing the 
gleam of its water 

Here and there, in some open space, and at 
intervals only ; 

Then drawing nearer its banks, through sylvan 
glooms that conceal it, 

Though he behold it not, he can hear its contin- 
uous murmur ; 

Happy, at length, if he find the spot where it 
reaches an outlet. 



88 Evajigeline 



II 



T T was the month of May. Far down the 

Beautiful River, 
Past the Ohio shore and past the mouth of the 

Wabash, 
Into the golden stream of the broad and swift 

Mississippi, 
Floated a cumbrous boat, that was rowed by 

Acadian boatmen. 
It was a band of exiles : a raft, as it were, from 

the shipwrecked 
Nation, scattered along the coast, now floating 

together. 
Bound by the bonds of a common belief and a 

common misfortune ; 
Men and women and children, who, guided by 

hope or by hearsay, 



Evangeline 89 

Sought for their kith and their kin among the 

few-acred farmers 
On the Acadian coast, and the prairies of fair 

Opelousas. 
With them EvangeUne went, and her guide, the 

Father Felician. 
Onward o'er sunken sands, through a wilderness 

sombre with forests, 
Day after day they glided adown the turbulent 

river ; 
Night after night, by their blazing fires, encamped 

on its borders. 
Now through rushing chutes, among green islands, 

where plumelike 
Cotton-trees nodded their shadowy crests, they 

swept with the current. 
Then emerged into broad lagoons, where silvery 

sand-bars 
Lay in the stream, and along the wimpling waves 

of their margin, 



go Evangeline 

Shining with snow-white plumes, large flocks of 

pelicans waded. 
Level the landscape grew, and along the shores 

of the river, 
Shaded by china-trees, in the midst of luxuriant 

gardens, 
Stood the houses of planters, with negro-cabins 

and dove-cots. 
They were approaching the region where reigns 

perpetual summer, 
Where through the Golden Coast, and groves 

of orange and citron, 
Sweeps with majestic curve the river away to 

the eastward. 
They, too, swerved from their course ; and, enter- 
ing the Bayou of Plaquemine, 
Soon were lost in a maze of sluggish and devious 

waters, 
Which, like a network of steel, extended in every 

direction. 



Evangeline 9 1 

Over their heads the towering and tenebrous 

boughs of the cypress 
Met in a dusky arch, and traiUng mosses in 

mid-air 
Waved like banners that hang on the walls of 

ancient cathedrals. 
Deathlike the silence seemed, and unbroken, save 

by the herons 
Home to their roosts in the cedar-trees returnins: 

at sunset, 
Or by the owl, as he greeted the moon with 

demoniac laughter. 
Lovely the moonlight was as it glanced and 

gleamed on the water, 
Gleamed on the columns of cypress and cedar 

sustaining the arches, 
Down through whose broken vaults it fell as 

through chinks in a ruin, 
DreamUke, and indistinct, and strange were all 

things around them ; 



92 Evangeline 

And o'er their spirits there came a feeling of 

wonder and sadness, — 
Strange forebodings of ill, unseen and that cannot 

be compassed. 
As, at the tramp of a horse's hoof on the turf 

of the prairies, 
Far in advance are closed the leaves of the 

shrinking mimosa. 
So, at the hoof-beats of fate, with sad forebodings 

of evil, 
Shrinks and closes the heart, ere the stroke of 

doom has attained it. 
But Evangeline's heart was sustained by a vision, 

that faintly 
Floated before her eyes, and beckoned her on 

through the moonlight. 
It was the thought of her brain that assumed 

the shape of a phantom. 
Through those shadowy aisles had Gabriel wan- 
dered before her, 



Evangeline 93 

And every stroke of the oar now brought him 
nearer and nearer. 

Then in his place, at the prow of the boat, 

rose one of the oarsmen, 
And, as a signal sound, if others like them per- 

adventure 
Sailed on those gloomy and midnight streams, 

blew a blast on his bugle. 
Wild through the dark colonnades and corridors 

leafy the blast rang, 
Breaking the seal of silence, and giving tongues 

to the forest. 
Soundless above them the banners of moss just 

stirred to the music. 
Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the 

distance. 
Over the watery floor, and beneath the reverberant 

branches ; 
But not a voice replied; no answer came from 

the darkness; 



94 Evangeline 

And, when the echoes had ceased, Hke a sense 

of pain was the silence. 
Then Evangehne slept ; but the boatmen rowed 

through the midnight, 
Silent at times, then singing famihar Canadian 

boat-songs, 
Such as they sang of old on their own Acadian 

rivers. 
While through the night were heard the myste- 
rious sounds of the desert, 
Far off, — indistinct, — as of wave or wind in 

the forest, 
Mixed with the whoop of the crane and the roar 

of the grim alligator. 

Thus ere another noon they emerged from the 
shades ; and before them 

Lay, in the golden sun, the lakes of the Atcha- 
falaya. 

Water-lilies in myriads rocked on the slight undu- 
lations 



Evangeline 95 

Made by the passing oars, and, resplendent in 

beauty, the lotus 
Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the 

boatmen. 
Faint was the air with the odorous breath of 

magnolia blossoms. 
And with the heat of noon ; and numberless 

sylvan islands, 
Fragrant and thickly embowered with blossoming 

hedges of roses, 
Near to whose shores they glided along, invited 

to slumber. 
Soon by the fairest of these their weary oars were 

suspended. 
Under the boughs of Wachita willows, that grew 

by the margin. 
Safely their boat was moored ; and scattered 

about on the greensward, 
Tired with their midnight toil, the weary travellers 

slumbered. 



96 Evangeline 

Over them vast and high extended the cope of 

a cedar. 
Swinging from its great arms, the trumpet-flower 

and the grape-vine 
Hung their ladder of ropes aloft like the ladder 

of Jacob, 
On whose pendulous stairs the angels ascending, 

descending, 
Were the swift humming-birds^ that flitted from 

blossom to blossom. 
Such was the vision Evangeline saw as she 

slumbered beneath it. 
Filled was her heart with love, and the dawn 

of an opening heaven 
Lighted her soul in sleep with the glory ol 

regions celestial. 

Nearer and ever nearer, among the number- 
less islands, 
Darted a light, swift boat, that sped away o'er 
the water, 



Evangelifie c)y 

Urged on its course by the sinewy arms of hunters 

and trappers. 
Northward its prow was turned, to the land of 

the bison and beaver. 
At the helm sat a youth, with countenance 

thoughtful and care-worn. 
Dark and neglected locks overshadowed his brow, 

and a sadness 
Somewhat beyond his years on his face was 

legibly written. 
Gabriel was it, who, weary with waiting, unhappy 

and restless, 
Sought in the Western wilds oblivion of self and 

of sorrow. 
Swiftly they glided along, close under the lee of 

the island, 
But by the opposite bank, and behind a screen 

of palmettos. 
So that they saw not the boat, where it lay 

concealed in the willows, 



gS Evangeline 

All undisturbed by the dash of their oars, and 

unseen, were the sleepers. 
Angel of God was there none to awaken the 

slumbering maiden. 
Swiftly they glided away, like the shade of a 

cloud on the prairie. 
After the sound of their oars on the tholes had 

died in the distance, 
As from a magic trance the sleepers awoke, and 

the maiden 
Said with a sigh to the friendly priest, " O Father 

Felician ! 
Something says in my heart that near me Gabriel 

wanders. 
Is it a foolish dream, an idle and vague super- 
stition ? 
Or has an angel passed, and revealed the truth 

to my spirit ? " 
Then, with a blush, she added, "Alas for my 

credulous fancy ! 



Evangeline 99 

Unto ears like thine such words as these have 

no meaning." 
But made answer the reverend man, and he smiled 

as he answered, — 
" Daughter, thy words are not idle ; nor are they 

to me without meaning. 
Feeling is deep and still ; and the word that 

floats on the surface 
Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the 

anchor is hidden. 
Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the 

world calls illusions. 
Gabriel truly is near thee ; for not far avv^ay to 

the southward, 
On the banks of the Teche, are the towns of 

St. Maur and St. Martin. 
There the long-wandering bride shall be given 

again to her bridegroom, 
There the long-absent pastor regain his flock and 

his sheepfold. 



lOO Evangeline 

Beautiful is the land, with its prairies and forests 

of fruit-trees ; 
Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the bluest 

of heavens 
Bending above, and resting its dome on the walls 

of the forest. 
They who dwell there have named it the Eden 

of Louisiana." 

With these words of cheer they arose and 

continued their journey. 
Softly the evening came. The sun from the 

western horizon 
Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er 

the landscape ; 
Twinkling vapors arose ; and sky and water and 

forest 
Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and 

mingled together. 
Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges 

of silver, 



Evangeline lOl 

Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the 
motionless water. 

Filled was Evangeline's heart with inexpressible 
sweetness. 

Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountains 
of feeling 

Glowed with the light of love, as the skies and 
waters around her. 

Then from a neighboring thicket the mocking- 
bird, wildest of singers. 

Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er 
the water, 

Shook from his little throat such floods of de- 
lirious music, 

That the whole air and the woods and the waves 
seemed silent to listen. 

Plaintive at first were the tones and sad ; then 

soaring to madness 
Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of 
frenzied Bacchantes. 



102 Evangeline 

Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful, low 

lamentation ; 
Till, having gathered them all, he flung them 

abroad in derision. 
As when, after a storm, a gust of wind through 

the tree-tops 
Shakes down the rattling rain in a crystal shower 

on the branches. 
With such a prelude as this, and hearts that 

throbbed with emotion. 
Slowly they entered the Teche, where it flows 

through the green Opelousas, 
And, through the amber air, above the crest of 

the woodland, 
Saw the column of smoke that arose from a 

neighboring dwelling ; — 
Sounds of a horn they heard, and the distant 

lowing of cattle. 



Evangeline 103 



III 



'VTEAR to the bank of the river, overshadowed 
by oaks, from whose branches 

Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe 
flaunted, 

Such as the Druids cut down with golden hatchets 
at Yule-tide, 

Stood, secluded and still, the house of the herds- 
man. A garden 

Girded it round about with a belt of luxuriant 
blossoms. 

Filling the air with fragrance. The house itself 
was of timbers 

Hewn from the cypress-tree, and carefully fitted 
together. 

Large and low was the roof; and on slender 
columns supported, 



i04 Evangeline 

Rose-wreathed, vine-encircled, a broad and spa- 
cious veranda, 

Haunt of the humming-bird and the bee, ex- 
tended around it. 

At each end of the house, amid the flowers of 
the garden, 

Stationed the dove-cots were, as love's perpetual 
symbol. 

Scenes of endless wooing, and endless conten- 
tions of rivals. 

Silence reigned o'er the place. The Une of shadow 
and sunshine 

Ran near the tops of the trees ; but the house 
itself was in shadow. 

And from its chimney-top, ascending and slowly 
expanding 

Into the evening air, a thin blue column of smoke 
rose. 

In the rear of the house, from the garden gate, 
ran a pathway 



Evangeline 105 

Through the great groves of oak to the skirts of 

the limitless prairie, 
Into whose sea of flowers the sun was slowly 

descending. 
Full in his track of light, like ships with shadowy 

canvas 
Hanging loose from their spars in a motionless 

calm in the tropics, 
Stood a cluster of trees, with tangled cordage 

of grape-vines. 

Just where the woodlands met the flowery surf 

of the prairie, 
Mounted upon his horse, with Spanish saddle 

and stirrups, 
Sat a herdsman, arrayed in gaiters and doublet 

of deerskin. 
Broad and brown was the face that from under 

the Spanish sombrero 
Gazed on the peaceful scene, with the lordly look 

of its master. 



io6 Evangeline 

Round about him were numberless herds of kine, 

that were grazing 
Quietly in the meadows, and breathing the vapory 

freshness 
That uprose from the river, and spread itself over 

the landscape. 
Slowly lifting the horn that hung at his side, and 

expanding 
Fully his broad, deep chest, he blew a blast, that 

resounded 
Wildly and sweet and far, through the still damp 

air of the evening. 
Suddenly out of the grass the long white horns 

of the cattle 
Rose like flakes of foam on the adverse currents 

of ocean. 
Silent a moment they gazed, then bellowing 

rushed o'er the prairie, 
And the whole mass became a cloud, a shade 

in the distance. 



Evangeline loy 

Then, as the herdsman turned to the house, 

through the gate of the garden 
Saw he the forms of the priest and the maiden 

advancing to meet him. 
Suddenly down from his horse he sprang in 

amazement, and forward 
Rushed with extended arms and exclamations 

of wonder ; 
When they beheld his face, they recognized Basil 

the blacksmith. 
Hearty his welcome was, as he led his guests to 

the garden. 
There in an arbor of roses with endless question 

and answer 
Gave they vent to their hearts, and renewed their 

friendly embraces. 
Laughing and weeping by turns, or sitting silent 

and thoughtful. 
Thoughtful, for Gabriel came not ; and now dark 

doubts and misgivings 



lo8 Evangeline 

Stole o'er the maiden's heart ; and Basil, some- 
what embarrassed, 

Broke the silence and said, "If you came by 
the Atchafalaya, 

How have you nowhere encountered my Ga- 
briel's boat on the bayous?" 

Over Evangeline's face at the words of Basil a 
shade passed. 

Tears came into her eyes, and she said, with a 
tremulous accent, 

*' Gone ? is Gabriel gone ? " and, concealing her 
face on his shoulder. 

All her o'erburdened heart gave way, and she 
wept and lamented. 

Then the good Basil said, — and his voice grew 
blithe as he said it, — 

" Be of good cheer, my child ; it is only to-day 
he departed. 

Foolish boy ! he has left me alone with my herds 
and my horses. 



Evangeline 1 09 

Moody and restless grown, and tried and troubled, 

his spirit 
Could no longer endure the calm of this quiet 

existence. 
Thinking ever of thee, uncertain and sorrowful 

ever. 
Ever silent, or speaking only of thee and his 

troubles, 
He at length had become so tedious to men and 

to maidens, 
Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought 

me, and sent him 
Unto the town of Adayes to trade for mules with 

the Spaniards. 
Thence he will follow the Indian trails to the 

Ozark Mountains, 
Hunting for furs in the forests, on rivers trapping 

the beaver. 
Therefore be of good cheer ; we will follow the 

fugitive lover; 



1 10 Evangeline 

He is not far on his way, and the Fates and 

the streams are against him. 
Up and away to-morrow, and through the red 

dew of the morning 
We will follow him fast, and bring him back 

to his prison." 

Then glad voices were heard, and up from the 

banks of the river, 
Borne aloft on his comrades' arms, came Michael 

the fiddler. 
Long under Basil's roof had he lived like a god 

on Olympus, 
Having no other care than dispensing music to 

mortals. 
Far renowned was he for his silver locks and 

his fiddle. 
" Long live Michael," they cried, " our brave 

Acadian minstrel ! " 
As they bore him aloft in triumphal procession ; 

and straightway 



Evangeline ill 

Father Felician advanced with Evangeline, greet- 
ing the old man 
Kindly and oft, and recalling the past, while 

Basil, enraptured. 
Hailed with hilarious joy his old companions and 

f^ossips, 
Laughing loud and long, and embracing mothers 

and daughters. 
Much they marvelled to see the wealth of the 

ci-devant blacksmith. 
All his domains and his herds, and his patriarchal 

demeanor ; 
Much they marvelled to hear his tales of the 

soil and the climate. 
And of the prairies, whose numberless herds 

were his who would take them; 
Each one thought in his heart, that he, too, would 

go and do likewise. 
Thus they ascended the steps, and, crossing the 

breezy veranda, 



112 Evangeline 

Entered the hall of the house, where already 

the supper of Basil 
Waited his late return; and they rested and 

feasted together. 

Over the joyous feast the sudden darkness 

descended. 
All was silent without, and, illuming the land- 
scape with silver, 
Fair rose the dewy moon and the myriad stars ; 

but within doors. 
Brighter than these, shone the faces of friends 

in the glimmering lamplight. 
Then from his station aloft, at the head of the 

table, the herdsman 
Poured forth his heart and his wine together 

in endless profusion. 
Lighting his pipe, that was filled with sweet 

Natchitoches tobacco. 
Thus he spake to his guests, who listened, and 

smiled as they listened : -^ 



Evangeline II3 

"Welcome once more, my friends, who long 

have been friendless and homeless. 
Welcome once more to a home, that is better 

perchance than the old one ! 
Here no hungry winter congeals our blood like 

the rivers ; 
Here no stony ground provokes the wrath of 

the farmer. 
Smoothly the ploughshare runs through the soil, 

as a keel through the water. 
All the year round the orange-groves are in 

blossom ; and grass grows 
More in a single night than a whole Canadian 

summer. 
Here, too, numberless herds run wild and un- 
claimed in the prairies ; 
Here, too, lands may be had for the asking, and 

forests of timber 
With a few blows of the axe are hewn and framed 

into houses. 

8 



114 Evangeline 

After your houses are built, and your fields are 

yellow with harvests, 
No King George of England shall drive you away 

from your homesteads, 
Burning your dwellings and barns, and stealing 

your farms and your cattle." 
Speaking these words, he blew a wrathful cloud 

from his nostrils. 
While his huge, brown hand came thundering 

down on the table. 
So that the guests all started ; and Father Fe- 

lician, astounded, 
Suddenly paused, with a pinch of snuff half- 
way to his nostrils. 
But the brave Basil resumed, and his words were 

milder and gayer: — 
"Only beware of the fever, my friends, beware 

of the fever ! 
For it is not like that of our cold Acadian 

climate, 



Evangeline 1 1 5 

Cured by wearing a spider hung round one's 

neck in a nutshell ! " 
Then there were voices heard at the door, and 

footsteps approaching 
Sounded upon the stairs and the floor of the 

breezy veranda. 
It was the neighboring Creoles and small Acadian 

planters, 
Who had been summoned all to the house of 

Basil the Herdsman. 
Merry the meeting was of ancient comrades and 

neighbors : 
Friend clasped friend in his arms ; and they who 

before were as strangers. 
Meeting in exile, became straightway as friends 

to each other. 
Drawn by the gentle bond of a common country 

together. 
But in the neighboring hall a strain of music, 

proceeding 



Ii6 Evangeline 

From the accordant strings of Michael's melo- 
dious fiddle, 

Broke up all further speech. Away, like children 
delighted. 

All things forgotten beside, they gave themselves 
to the maddening 

Whirl of the dizzy dance, as it swept and swayed 
to the music, 

Dreamlike, with beaming eyes and the rush of 
fluttering garments. 

Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the hall, the 
priest and the herdsman 

Sat, conversing together of past and present and 
future ; 

While Evangeline stood like one entranced, for 
within her 

Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst of 
the music 

Heard she the sound of the sea, and an irre- 
pressible sadness 



Evangeline 117 

Came o'er her heart, and unseen she stole forth 

into the garden. 
Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall 

of the forest, 
Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon, 

On the river 
Fell here and there through the branches a 

tremulous gleam of the moonlight, 
Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened 

and devious spirit. 
Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers 

of the garden 
Poured out their souls in odors, that were their 

prayers and confessions 
Unto the night, as it went its way, like a silent 

Carthusian. 
Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with 

shadows and night-dews, 
Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and 

the magical moonlight 



ii8 Evangeline 

Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable 

longings, 
As, through the garden gate, and beneath the 

shade of the oak-trees, 
Passed she along the path to the edge of the 

measureless prairie. 
Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and 

fireflies 
Gleaming and floating away in mingled and 

infinite numbers. 
Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God 

in the heavens, 
Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased to 

marvel and worship, 
Save when a blazing comet was seen on the 

walls of that temple. 
As if a hand had appeared and written upon 

them, "Upharsin." 
And the soul of the maiden, between the stars 

and the fireflies, 



Evangeline 1 19 

Wandered alone, and she cried, " O Gabriel ! 

O my beloved! 
Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot 

behold thee? 
Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice 

does not reach me? 
Ah ! how often thy feet have trod this path to 

the prairie! 
Ah ! how often thine eyes have looked on the 

woodlands around me! 
Ah ! how often beneath this oak, returning from 

labor, 
Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dream of 

me in thy slumbers. 
When shall these eyes behold, these arms be 

folded about thee?" 
Loud and sudden and near the note of a whip- 

poorwill sounded 
Like a flute in the woods ; and anon, through 

the neighboring thickets, 



120 Evangelhie 

Farther and farther away it floated and dropped 

into silence. 
" Patience ! " whispered the oaks from oracular 

caverns of darkness ; 
And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh responded, 

" To-morrow ! " 

Bright rose the sun next day ; and all the 

flowers of the garden 
Bathed his shining feet with their tears, and 

anointed his tresses 
With the delicious balm that they bore in their 

vases of crystal. 
" Farewell ! " said the priest, as he stood at the 

shadowy threshold ; 
"See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from 

his fasting and famine, 
And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when 

the bridegroom was coming." 
** Farewell ! " answered the maiden, and, smiling, 

with Basil descended 



Evangeline 121 

Down to the rivers brink, where the boatmen 

already were waiting. 
Thus beginning their journey with morning, and 

sunshine, and gladness, 
Swiftly they followed the flight of him who 

was speeding before them, 
Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf over 

the desert. 
Not that day, nor the next, nor yet the day that 

succeeded. 
Found they trace of his course, in lake or forest 

or river, 
Nor, after many days, had they found him ; but 

vague and uncertain 
Rumors alone were their guides through a wild 

and desolate country ; 
Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of 

Adayes, 
Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from 

the garrulous landlord, 



122 



Evangeline 



That on the day before, with horses and guides 

and companions, 
Gabriel left the village, and took the road of 

the prairies. 




Evangeline 123 



IV 



TP^AR in the West there lies a desert land, 

where the mountains 

Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and 
luminous summits. 

Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where 
the gorge, like a gateway, 

Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emi- 
grant's wagon. 

Westward the Oregon flows and the Walleway 
and Owyhee. 

Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind- 
river Mountains, 

Through the Sweet-water Valley precipitate 
leaps the Nebraska; 

And to the south, from Fontaine-qui-bout and 
the Spanish sierras, 



124 Evangeline 

Fretted with sands and rocks, and swept by 
the wind of the desert, 

Numberless torrents, with ceaseless sound, de- 
scend to the ocean. 

Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and 
solemn vibrations. 

Spreading between these streams are the won- 
drous, beautiful prairies, 

Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow and 
sunshine. 

Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and 
purple amorphas. 

Over them wandered the buffalo herds, and the 
elk and the roebuck; 

Over them wandered the wolves, and herds of 
riderless horses ; 

Fires that blast and blight, and winds that are 
weary with travel ; 

Over them wander the scattered tribes of Ish- 
mael's children^ 



Evangeline 125 

Staining the desert with blood ; and above their 

terrible war-trails 
Circles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, the 

vulture, 
Like the implacable soul of a chieftain slaugh- 
tered in battle, 
By invisible stairs ascending and scaling the 

heavens. 
Here and there rise smokes from the camps of 

these savage marauders ; 
Here and there rise groves from the margins 

of swift-running rivers ; 
And the grim, taciturn bear, the anchorite monk 

of the desert, 
Climbs down their dark ravines to dig for roots 

by the brookside. 
And over all is the sky, the clear and crystalline 

heaven. 
Like the protecting hand of God inverted above 

them. 



126 Evangeline 

Into this wonderful land, at the base of the 

Ozark Mountains, 
Gabriel far had entered, with hunters and 

trappers behind him. 
Day after day, with their Indian guides, the 

maiden and Basil 
Followed his flying steps, and thought each day 

to o'ertake him. 
Sometimes they saw, or thought they saw, the 

smoke of his camp-fire 
Rise in the morning air from the distant plain ; 

but at nightfall. 
When they had reached the place, they found 

only embers and ashes. 
And, though their hearts were sad at times and 

their bodies were weary, 
Hope still guided them on, as the magic Fata 

Morgana 
Showed them her lakes of light, that retreated 

and vanished before them. 



Evangeline 127 

Once, as they sat by their evening fire, there 

silently entered 
Into the little camp an Indian woman, whose 

features 
Wore deep traces of sorrow, and patience as 

great as her sorrow. 
She was a Shawnee woman returning home to 

her people, 
From the far-off hunting-grounds of the cruel 

Camanches, 
Where her Canadian husband, a Coureur-des- 

Bois, had been murdered. 
Touched were their hearts at her story, and 

warmest and friendliest welcome 
Gave they, with words of cheer, and she sat and 

feasted among them 
On the buffalo-meat and the venison cooked on 

the embers. 
But when their meal was done, and Basil and 

all his companions, 



128 Evangeline 

Worn with the long day's march and the chase 

of the deer and the bison, 
Stretched themselves on the ground, and slept 

where the quivering fire-light 
Flashed on their swarthy cheeks, and their forms 

wrapped up in their blankets, 
Then at the door of Evangeline's tent she sat 

and repeated 
Slowly, with soft, low voice, and the charm of 

her Indian accent, 
All the tale of her love, with its pleasures, and 

pains, and reverses. 
Much Evangeline wept at the tale, and to know 

that another 
Hapless heart like her own had loved and had 

been disappointed. 
Moved to the depths of her soul by pity and 

woman's compassion. 
Yet in her sorrow pleased that one who had 

suffered was near her, 



Evangeline 129 

She in turn related her love and all its disas- 
ters. 

Mute with wonder the Shawnee sat, and when 
she had ended 

Still was mute ; but at length, as if a mysterious 
horror 

Passed through her brain, she spake, and re- 
peated the tale of the Mowis ; 

Mowis, the bridegroom of snow, who won and 
wedded a maiden. 

But, when the morning came, arose and passed 
from the wigwam, 

Fading and melting away and dissolving into 
the sunshine. 

Till she beheld him no more, though she followed 
far into the forest. 

Then, in those sweet, low tones, that seemed 
like a weird incantation. 

Told she the tale of the fair Lilinau, who was 
wooed by a phantom, 



1 30 Evangeline 

That, through the pines o'er her father's lodge, 
in the hush of the twiHght, 

Breathed Hke the evening wind, and whispered 
love to the maiden, 

Till she followed his green and waving plume 
through the forest. 

And never more returned, nor was seen again 
by her people. 

Silent with wonder and strange surprise, Evan- 
geline listened 

To the soft flow of her magical words, till the 
region around her 

Seemed like enchanted ground, and her swar- 
thy guest the enchantress. 

Slowly over the tops of the Ozark Mountains 
the moon rose, 

Lighting the little tent, and with a mysterious 
splendor 

Touching the sombre leaves, and embracing and 
filling the woodland. 



Evangeline 131 

With a delicious sound the brook rushed by, 
and the branches 

Swayed and sighed overhead in scarcely audible 
whispers. 

Filled with the thoughts of love was Evange- 
line's heart, but a secret, 

Subtile sense crept in of pain and indefinite 
terror. 

As the cold, poisonous snake creeps into the 
nest of the swallow. 

It was no earthly fear. A breath from the re- 
gion of spirits 

Seemed to float in the air of night ; and she 
felt for a moment 

That, like the Indian maid, she, too, was pur- 
suing a phantom. 

With this thought she slept, and the fear and 
the phantom had vanished. 

Early upon the morrow the march was re- 
sumed ; and the Shawnee 



132 Evangeline 

Said, as they journeyed along, " On the west- 
ern slope of these mountains 

Dwells in his little village the Black Robe 
chief of the Mission. 

Much he teaches the people, and tells them of 
Mary and Jesus ; 

Loud laugh their hearts with joy, and weep 
with pain, as they hear him." 

Then, with a sudden and secret emotion, 
Evangeline answered, 

"Let us go to the Mission, for there good tid- 
ings await us ! " 

Thither they turned their steeds ; and behind 
a spur of the mountains. 

Just as the sun went down, they heard a mur- 
mur of voices, 

And in a meadow green and broad, by the 
bank of a river. 

Saw the tents of the Christians, the tents of 
the Jesuit Mission. 



Evangeline 133 

Under a towering oak, that stood in the midst 
of the village, 

Knelt the Black Robe chief with his children. 
A crucifix fastened 

High on the trunk of the tree, and overshad- 
owed by grape-vines, 

Looked with its agonized face on the multitude 
kneeling beneath it. 

This was their rural chapel. Aloft, through 
the intricate arches 

Of its aerial roof, arose the chant of their ves- 
pers. 

Mingling its notes with the soft susurrus and 
sighs of the branches. 

Silent, with heads uncovered, the travellers, 
nearer approaching, 

Knelt on the swarded floor, and joined in the 
evening devotions. 

But when the service was done, and the bene- 
diction had fallen 



1 34 Evangeline 

Forth from the hands of the priest, like seed 
from the hands of the sower, 

Slowly the reverend man advanced to the stran- 
gers and bade them 

Welcome ; and when they replied, he smiled 
with benignant expression. 

Hearing the homelike sounds of his mother- 
tongue in the forest. 

And, with words of kindness, conducted them 
into his wigwam. 

There upon mats and skins they reposed, and 
on cakes of the maize-ear 

Feasted, and slaked their thirst from the wa- 
ter gourd of the teacher. 

Soon was their story told ; and the priest with 
solemnity answered : — 

" Not six suns have risen and set since Ga- 
briel, seated 

On this mat by my side, where now the maiden 
reposes, 



Evangeline 135 

Told me this same sad tale ; then arose and 

continued his journey ! " 
Soft was the voice of the priest, and he spake 

with an accent of kindness ; 
But on Evangeline's heart fell his words as in 

winter the snow-flakes 
Fall into some lone nest from which the birds 

have departed. 
"Far to the north he has gone," continued the 

priest ; " but in autumn. 
When the chase is done, will return again to 

the Mission." 
Then Evangeline said, and her voice was meek 

and submissive, 
"Let me remain with thee, for my soul is sad 

and afflicted." 
So seemed it wise and well unto all ; and be- 
times on the morrow, 
Mounting his Mexican steed, with his Indian 

guides and companions, 



136 Evangeline 

Homeward Basil returned, and Evangeline stayed 
at the Mission. 

Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded 
each other, — 

Days and weeks and months ; and the fields 
of maize that were springing 

Green from the ground when a stranger she 
came, now waving above her, 

Lifted their slender shafts, with leaves interla- 
cing, and forming 

Cloisters for mendicant crows and granaries pil- 
laged by squirrels. 

Then in the golden weather the maize was 
husked, and the maidens 

Blushed at each blood-red ear, for that beto- 
kened a lover. 

But at the crooked laughed, and called it a thief 
in the cornfield. 

Even the blood-red ear to Evangeline brought 
not her lover. 



Evangeline 137 

" Patience ! " the priest would say ; " have faith, 
and thy prayer will be answered ! 

Look at this delicate plant that lifts its head 
from the meadow, 

See how its leaves are turned to the north, as 
true as the magnet ; 

This is the compass-flower, that the finger of 
God has planted 

Here in the houseless wild, to direct the travel- 
ler's journey 

Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of 
the desert. 

Such in the soul of man is faith. The blos- 
soms of passion. 

Gay and luxuriant flowers, are brighter and 
fuller of fragrance, 

But they beguile us, and lead us astray, and 
their odor is deadly. 

Only this humble plant can guide us here, and 
hereafter 



138 Evangeline 

Crown us with asphodel flowers, that are wet 
with the dews of nepenthe." 

So came the autumn, and passed, and the 
winter, — yet Gabriel came not ; 

Blossomed the opening spring, and the notes 
of the robin and bluebird 

Sounded sweet upon wold and in wood, yet 
Gabriel came not. 

But on the breath of the summer winds a ru- 
mor was wafted 

Sweeter than song of bird, or hue or odor of 
blossom. 

Far to the north and east, it said, in the 
Michigan forests, 

Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the 
Saginaw river. 

And, with returning guides, that sought the 
lakes of St. Lawrence, 

Saying a sad farewell, Evangeline went from 
the Mission. 



Evangeline 1 39 

When over weary ways, by long and perilous 

marches, 
She had attained at length the depths of the 

Michigan forests. 
Found she the hunter's lodge deserted and fallen 

to ruin ! 

Thus did the long sad years glide on, and 
in seasons and places 

Divers and distant far was seen the wandering 
maiden ; — 

Now in the Tents of Grace of the meek Mo- 
ravian Missions, 

Now in the noisy camps and the battle-fields 
of the army. 

Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and popu- 
lous cities. 

Like a phantom she came, and passed away 
unremembered. 

Fair was she and young, when in hope began 
the long journey ; 



140 Evangeline 

Faded was she and old, when in disappointment 
it ended. 

Each succeeding year stole something away 
from her beauty, 

Leaving behind it, broader and deeper, the 
gloom and the shadow. 

Then there appeared and spread faint streaks 
of gray o'er her forehead, 

Dawn of another life, that broke o'er her earth- 
ly horizon, 

As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of 
the morning. 






Evangeline 141 



TN that delightful land which is washed by 

the Delaware's waters, 
Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn 

the apostle, 
Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the 

city he founded. 
There all the air is balm, and the peach is the 

emblem of beauty. 
And the streets still re-echo the names of the 

trees of the forest, 
As if they fain would appease the Dryads 

whose haunts they molested. 
There from the troubled sea had Evangeline 

landed, an exile. 
Finding among the children of Penn a home 

and a country. 



142 Evangeline 

There old Rene Leblanc had died ; and when 
he departed, 

Saw at his side only one of all his hundred 
descendants. 

Something at least there was in the friendly 
streets of the city, 

Something that spake to her heart, and made 
her no longer a stranger ; 

And her ear was pleased with the Thee and 
Thou of the Quakers, 

For it recalled the past, the old Acadian coun- 
try. 

Where all men were equal, and all were broth- 
ers and sisters. 

So, when the fruitless search, the disappointed 
endeavor, 

Ended, to recommence no more upon earth, 
uncomplaining. 

Thither, as leaves to the light, were turned her 
thoughts and her footsteps. 



Evangeline 143 

As from a mountain's top the rainy mists of 

the morning 
Roll away, and afar we behold the landscape 

below us, 
Sun-illumined, with shining rivers and cities 

and hamlets. 
So fell the mists from her mind, and she saw 

the world far below her. 
Dark no longer, but all illumined with love ; 

and the pathway 
Which she had climbed so far, lying smooth 

and fair in the distance. 
Gabriel was not forgotten. Within her heart 

was his image. 
Clothed in the beauty of love and youth, as 

last she beheld him. 
Only more beautiful made by his deathlike si- 
lence and absence. 
Into her thoughts of him time entered not, for 

it was not. 



144 Evangeline 

Over him years had no power; he was not 

changed, but transfigured ; 
He had become to her heart as one who is 

dead, and not absent; 
Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion 

to others, 
This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow 

had taught her. 
So was her love diffused, but, like to some 

odorous spices. 
Suffered no waste nor loss, though filling the 

air with aroma. 
Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but 

to follow 
Meekly, with reverent steps, the sacred feet of 

her Saviour. 
Thus many years she lived as a Sister of Mer- 
cy ; frequenting 
Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded 

lanes of the city, 



Evangeline 145 

Where distress and want concealed themselves 

from the sunlight, 
Where disease and sorrow in garrets languished 

neglected. 
Night after night, when the world was asleep, 

as the watchman repeated 
Loud, through the gusty streets, that all was 

well in the city. 
High at some lonely window he saw the light 

of her taper. 
Day after day, in the gray of the dawn, as 

slow through the suburbs 
Plodded the German farmer, with flowers and 

fruits for the market. 
Met he that meek, pale face, returning home 

from its watchings. 

Then it came to pass that a pestilence fell 
on the city, 



146 Evangeline 

Presaged by wondrous signs, and mostly by 

flocks of wild pigeons, 
Darkening the sun in their flight, with naught 

in their craws but an acorn. 

And, as the tides of the sea arise in the month 
f 

of September, 

Flooding some silver stream, till it spreads to 

a lake in the meadow, 
So death flooded life, and, o'erflowing its natu- 
ral margin. 
Spread to a brackish lake, the silver stream of 

existence. 
Wealth had no power to bribe, nor beauty to 

charm, the oppressor ; 
But all perished alike beneath the scourge of 

his anger ; — 
Only, alas ! the poor, who had neither friends 

nor attendants. 
Crept away to die in the almshouse, home of 

the homeless. 



Evangeline 147 

Then in the suburbs it stood, in the midst of 

meadows and woodlands ; — 
Now the city surrounds it ; but still, with its 

gateway and wicket 
Meek, in the midst of splendor, its humble 

walls seem to echo 
Softly the words of the Lord : — " The poor ye 

always have with you." 
Thither, by night and by day, came the Sister 

of Mercy. The dying 
Looked up into her face, and thought, indeed, 

to behold there 
Gleams of celestial light encircle her forehead 

with splendor. 
Such as the artist paints o'er the brows of 

saints and apostles, 
Or such as hangs by night o'er a city seen at 

a distance. 
Unto their eyes it seemed the lamps of the 

city celestial. 



148 Evangeline 

Into whose shining gates erelong their spirits 
would enter. 

Thus, on a Sabbath morn, through the streets, 
deserted and silent. 

Wending her quiet way, she entered the door 
of the almshouse. 

Sweet on the summer air was the odor of 
flowers in the garden ; 

And she paused on her way to gather the 
fairest among them, 

That the dying once more might rejoice in 
their fragrance and beauty. 

Then, as she mounted the stairs to the corri- 
dors, cooled by the east wind, 

Distant and soft on her ear fell the chimes from 
the belfry of Christ Church, 

While, intermingled with these, across the mead- 
ows were wafted 

Sounds of psalms, that were sung by the 
Swedes in their church at Wicaco. 



Evangeline 149 

Soft as descending wings fell the calm of the 

hour on her spirit ; 
Something within her said, "At length thy 

trials are ended " ; 
And, with light in her looks, she entered the 

chambers of sickness. 
Noiselessly moved about the assiduous, careful 

attendants, 
Moistening the feverish lip, and the aching 

brow, and in silence 
Closing the sightless eyes of the dead, and con- 
cealing their faces. 
Where on their pallets they lay, like drifts of 

snow by the roadside. 
Many a languid head, upraised as Evangeline 

entered. 
Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while she 

passed, for her presence 
Fell on their hearts like a ray of the sun on 

the walls of a prison. 



150 Evangeline 

And, as she looked around, she saw how Death, 

the consoler, 
Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed 

it forever. 
Many familiar forms had disappeared in the 

night-time ; 
Vacant their places were, or filled already by 

strangers. 

Suddenly, as if arrested by fear or a feeling 

of wonder. 
Still she stood, with her colorless lips apart, 

while a shudder 
Ran through her frame, and, forgotten, the 

flowerets dropped from her fingers. 
And from her eyes and cheeks the light and 

bloom of the morning. 
Then there escaped from her lips a cry of such 

terrible anguish. 
That the dying heard it, and started up from 

their pillows. 



Evangeline 151 

On the pallet before her was stretched the 

form of an old man. 
Long, and thin, and gray were the locks that 

shaded his temples ; 
But, as he lay in the morning light, his face 

for a moment 
Seemed to assume once more the forms of its 

earlier manhood ; 
So are wont to be changed the faces of those 

who are dying. 
Hot and red on his lips still burned the flush 

of the fever, 
As if life, like the Hebrew, with blood had be- 
sprinkled its portals. 
That the Angel of Death 'might see the sign, 

and pass over. 
Motionless, senseless, dying, he lay, and his 

spirit exhausted 
Seemed to be sinking down through infinite 

depths in the darkness, 



152 Evangeline 

Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking 

and sinking. 
Then through those realms of shade, in multi- 
plied reverberations, 
Heard he that cry of pain, and through the 

hush that succeeded 
Whispered a gentle voice, in accents tender and 

saint-like, 
" Gabriel ! O my beloved ! " and died away into 

silence. 
Then he beheld, in a dream, once more the 

home of his childhood ; 
Green Acadian meadows, with sylvan rivers 

among them, 
Village, and mountain, and woodlands; and, 

walking under their shadow. 
As in the days of her youth, Evangeline rose 

in his vision. 
Tears came into his eyes ; and as slowly he 

lifted his eyelids. 



^\--m 







^^ 



Evangeline 153 

Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline knelt 
by his bedside. 

Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the 
accents unuttered 

Died on his lips, and their motion revealed 
what his tongue would have spoken. 

Vainly he strove to rise ; and Evangeline, kneel- 
ing beside him, 

Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her 
bosom. 

Sweet was the light of his eyes ; but it sud- 
denly sank into darkness, 

As when a lamp is blown out by a gust of 
wind at a casement. 

All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, 

and the sorrow, 
AH the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied 

longing, 
All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish 

of patience ! 



154 



Evangeline 



And, as she pressed once more the lifeless 

head to her bosom, 
Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, 

" Father, I thank thee ! " 





OTILL stands the forest primeval ; but far 

away from its shadow, 
Side by side, in their nameless graves, the 

lovers are sleeping. 
Under the humble walls of the little Catholic 

churchyard. 
In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown 

and unnoticed. 
Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing 

beside them, 
Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are 

at rest and forever. 
Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no 

longer are busy, 



156 Evangeline 

Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have 

ceased from their labors, 
Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have 

completed their journey ! 

Still stands the forest primeval ; but under 

the shade of its branches 
Dwells another race, with other customs and 

language. 
Only along the shore of the mournful and misty 

Atlantic 
Linger a few Acadian peasants, whose fathers 

from exile 
Wandered back to their native land to die in 

its bosom. 
In the fisherman's cot the wheel and the loom 

are still busy; 
Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their 

kirtles of homespun. 
And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline's 

story, 



Evangeline 



n7 



While from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced, 

neighboring ocean 
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the 

wail of the forest. 




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